


unechoed

by curtailed



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Collars, Dom/sub, Emotion Play, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nook Worship, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Quadrant Confusion, basically i like to play around with their emotions like a yo yo from toys r us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curtailed/pseuds/curtailed
Summary: the emotional ramifications of not sorting out your love life





	unechoed

**Author's Note:**

> hey! just wanted to say that i posted this bc i'm going to be really busy this week, so if you are a rarity among readers in that you actually follow ssbah, then this is kinda the apology fic to make up for its loss :(
> 
> so once again, these pairings show up -- wow, totally not favoring several ships over the others, that'd be pretty weird if i did that or smth

Bucket Day -- as it's informally called in court -- has the two of them stumbling into the respiteblock by dayfall, their uniforms long rumpled and mussed and their hair softening in wild tangles. The first time they had been clandestine -- exploring each other almost lazily, pitch hormones rolling thick in the air -- but perigees and perigees later and Eridan wastes no time dragging his bodyguard into the room by the wrist, kicking the door shut as soon as they've entered.

"Lock it," he says, already fumbling with his cape.

Sollux rolls his eyes but complies -- a glitter of red and blue flip the switch close, and then it's just the two of them in the room.

"Flip a coin today?"

"Go the fuck ahead," his bodyguard sneers, but already the coin's tossed in the air -- heads, it'd be Eridan's play tonight, tails and Sollux holds the ropes. Maybe literally. The coin crashes down onto the carpet.

"Heads, it is."

Instantly the room's atmosphere changes; Eridan stares expectantly at Sollux, who licks his lips and slowly gets onto his knees. Eridan has to laugh at the sight before rummaging around in the chest for the proper tools -- today's is simple and classical. It's a thick collar stamped with his symbol with a set of cuffs attached to the band; dampeners are laced among its metal, which would reduce the worst of Sol's psionics. The gag is a bit more casual; it's a set of panties Eridan pawned off recently from a highblood. Sollux's eyes widen when he sees what Eridan has in stow.

"Hands behind your neck, Sol," he drawls, showing him a smile of teeth. 

The smile softens into something genuine when he finishes setting the yellowblood up; Sollux is on his knees, gagged, his legs parted, bifurcated bulge already half unsheathed. His hands are restrained behind his neck and attached to the collar -- if he pulls too hard he'll choke himself. Eridan shambles closer to him, running a finger down the line of his throat.

"You ready?" he whispers. 

Sollux snaps his hands together twice for affirmation. Three times and it's the safeword -- but if he's truly panicking, he'll just flare psionics to full power and fry Eridan's clothes off his body. Eridan's not too enthusiastic with the approach. 

He drags a chair over and seats himself casually in it, watching Sollux shiver and shift his legs uncomfortably.

"Come over here."

Instantly Sollux's responding -- he drags his knees back and forth as he waddles closer, until he's face-to-face with Eridan's own knee. Smoothly, effortlessly, Eridan turns him around and pulls him into his lap. For a moment he thinks of sinking his bulge into the needy golden nook, letting Sollux ride him to completion.

Instead, he just presses his face into Sollux's neck and says nothing. Sollux stills a little, still straddling his thigh, his back and shoulders burning almost feverishly against Eridan's chest, chained hands brushing his earfin, and the seadweller can detect the motion of his chest heaving up and down.

Very slowly he kisses his neck, letting his tongue run between his teeth, a thrill shooting up his spine when he hears Sollux's breath hitch. He mouths over hot veins, fragile skin, only millimeters separating his teeth from the golden reservoir within, and Sollux shudders and tilts his head back, allowing Eridan's lips to migrate to right below his chin. He sucks on the place hard, his ears ringing with the heartbeat, and Sollux instinctively thrashes a little -- a soft moan escaping through his gag -- his hips jutting upward, seeking friction --

"Fuck," Eridan whispers, because having the psion rendered undone before him makes his head hazy with lust, and he wants to test his boundaries, lighting up every nerve like a bonfire.

"_Fuck,_ Sol, you're so -- gogdamn -- " He slips his hands under Sollux's shirt, kneading and memorizing the texture of his grub scars. At this gesture Sollux grinds violently against his crotch, sobs breaking through his muffled mouth, and Eridan feels the heat of the sounds all the way into his nook. His hands wrench and twist uselessly in the air. Eridan doesn't stop pressing until he feels a slight dampening on his legs. Runny, gold fluid leaks on the fabric, dripping pornographically onto the chair.

_Shit._

Eridan doesn't hesitate; he's yanking one hand out from Sollux's shirt, slipping it down the other's pants, feeling the warm, wet heat of his bulge press against his palm -- fluid slippery and hot against his fingers -- and then he's probing the warmth of his nook, cupping the mound of tender golden flesh, feeling how they tighten around his finger like a noose, the walls so _warm_ against his skin.

Sollux shrieks and thrashes like he's being burnt alive, and Eridan presses more kisses to his throat, sucking at the skin, settling on his lips -- they part and their tongues are colliding, even as Sollux thrusts himself onto Eridan's finger, sliding in and out of the cold length, his body tight and spasming -- even through the gag he's making this high, keening sound, his throat muscles straining, and drool drips down his chin like he's drowning. 

His nook clenches once, twice, around Eridan's finger, and then he's gone -- his whole frame shudders with the force of the orgasm, a rush of yellow splattering his thighs and pants and Eridan's lap. Most of it surges into the bucket, however. His hips still thrust back and forth as his legs jerk violently, one foot wildly kicking the chair leg. He's _crying,_ Eridan realizes, translucent golden tears dripping down his cheeks and soaking his gag and he's a complete, utter _wreck,_ that having his brains fingerfucked out made every neuron short-circuit and he's just submissively slumped on Eridan's legs, the last bit of his release trickling onto Eridan's knees.

Slowly, Eridan removes the gag -- blood and spit drip from the fabric from where he'd bitten his lip. Carefully he unlocks the chains and collar, wincing at the harsh red marks it leaves on Sollux's wrists, and he's already dragging the psion to the bed -- content with the tightness in his own groin -- when Sollux grabs him by the wrist.

"What - ?"

"Gotta repay the favor, ED." There's no malice in his voice as Sollux kneels between his legs, the tiniest of smiles playing around his mouth -- how the hell had he recovered so quickly? Blue and red psionics flare at his fingertips. "You down for this?"

"Fuck," Eridan whispers hoarsely.

"One coming right up." The only warning he gets is a full, shit-eating grin right before _psionics_ trace the shape of his bulge, whitening his nerves into hard, painful pleasure that instinctively makes Eridan's gill slits open, desperate for air. Then Sollux is standing back up, pressing his mouth to the neck gills -- his fangs scrape the membranes and Eridan shrills in arousal and fear, even as electricity arcs up into his nook and all he feels are hard shudders rocking up into his stomach, his chest, his head, this growing pressure that makes him want to be laid bare and fucked into the mattress like a toy --

"Sol -- "

"Shut the _fuck_ up, ED," Sollux downright snarls, planting a hard, cold kiss right on his gasping mouth. He presses Eridan hard into the chair, his psionics relentless against the seadweller's nook and a moan breaks out of both of their throats, high and nasal in Sollux's case, low and raw from Eridan. 

"I'm -- I'm goin' to -- I _fuckin'_ swear, Sol, let me up -- "

Eridan's release is less dramatic than Sollux, but no less intense; a wave of violet slurry crash into the pail, mixing hazily with dulling gold. In moments the mixture will catalyze, and they'll know if their sex was flushed or pitch, but for now they're content in sharing each other's breaths, Sollux halfway straddling Eridan's lap. Absentmindedly, Eridan kisses the psion's jaw, tasting sweat.

"Pitch," Sollux observes, his voice oddly flat.

Something cold sinks in Eridan's stomach; he shouldn't be _affected,_ he thinks bitterly, feeling Sollux's warm weight slide off his lap and closely inspect the bucket's contents. They've always fucked pitch before. It's dark muddy grey -- not the ebony black like the first time -- but it's satisfactory enough for any passing drone. It's always a pitch tone. No matter how tender they start, how gentle their words are, it's never long until one of them drives the other to the fucking _edge_ and makes them beg for it, plead for it, make them feel simultaneously proud and insignificant and utterly worthless like rubbish.

"Sollux -- "

"I get it, Eridan." The psion shakes the bucket a little, like it would change the color. His clothes are still stained with both of their material. "I'm going to wash off. You coming along?"

"I'll go later," he says.

"Whatever you want."

When they're both done with the showers, smelling faintly of lemons and grape, they fall into bed together. Eridan quickly presses his face into Sollux's bony ribcage and listens to the warmblood's heart pounding furiously against his ear, so full of blazing passion and capable of kindness -- kindness he'll never earn, never deserve, not so long as they continue to stay here.

"Be my quadrantmate."

"_What?"_

Eridan nearly bites off his tongue to amend. "Just -- be _something_ with me. Anything." He pauses, already ashamed of how desperate he's sounding. "I mean, if you want. I can give you whatever. Whatever the hell you want."

"ED, are you actually trying to _bribe_ me?" But the way he pulls Eridan closer to him, running a hand through his hair, dampens most of the rancor in his voice.

"Yeah," Eridan admits softly.

Sollux idly plays with a lock of purple hair. "I can definitely fuck with you a lot of ways if I get this relationship upgrade, you know."

"I know."

"You're royalty," Solux whispers, exploring the seadweller's collarbone with light kisses. "I'm gutterblood trash. You're supposed to spit on me and make me kneel at your legs."

"You've done that before -- "

"I'm serious, ED. Can you even do that? Can you even look at my material without vomiting?"

The first time they had commenced any sexual activity -- a heavy, intense makeout behind the ballroom's pillar -- Eridan had bitten down on Sollux's lip and mustard-colored blood had trickled into his mouth -- his _mouth_ \-- mixing in with his own violet, and he had almost gagged from the feeling of lowblood fluid mixing with his own but Sollux's knee had been persistently digging between his legs and panic was submerged under bubbling hot pleasure, and no matter what color his blood was he had never felt so amazing that day, tying Sollux to the table and feeling the psion's lips on his bulge, his nook, lapping up his own liquid greedily, until purple and yellow splashed in smears and mixed into raw sludge. 

"I got over it," Eridan says. "So when will you be leaving?"

"Tomorrow. I haven't seen KK for a while."

There's always one topic that hangs dangerously in the air -- Eridan, he has realized, is someone desperately important to Sollux. No matter what their relationship is, the psion would be devastated if his ward was injured -- and vice versa. They hurl insults and trade barbs and make each other suck the other off happily. They've fucked under a table before. Their only barriers are clothes. When they're not pailing each other's brains out, they sometimes talk about their lives -- Sollux goes on and on about honey cultivation, Eridan rambles on his undersea explorations. 

But on the subject of Sollux's hivemate, that's a line Eridan knows he can't cross.

He only knows their first name -- Karkat -- and absolutely nothing else. He doesn't know their blood color, their gender, their horn shape, their _anything._ All he knows is that Sollux guards them to an inch of his life, and knows that they fill Sollux's pail on the diametric quadrant -- and sometimes, he thinks painfully, he'd hate this troll platonically. This troll, who inexplicably has some of Sollux's strongest emotions in heart and probably won't even appreciate it, not like the way he does.

"That's nice," Eridan says instead, silently priding himself on watching his tongue. He feels Sollux relax against his frame. "You'll be back soon?"

"Just for you, Eridan. And I'll think about it," Sollux says, his voice almost sleepy, but both of them know his answer before he'll ever step out of the door.

====

A complete contrast from the sea is his and Karkat's hive; there's nothing boundless or formidable about the stacked shit that teeters a little perilously at the edge of the city. Its windows are darkened, the moons rosy glows above the horizon, but before Sollux can even knock the front door's already swinging open.

It's a routine.

Without preamble Karkat's already ushering him inside -- all business-like methodical efficiency, checking him for crippling wounds -- his hands linger over the hickeys on his neck and collarbone, and as usual Sollux sees his face tense like the marks personally hurt him -- but then he just frowns and asks him to take an ablution.

"Can I take a fucking nap first?"

"You smell like rotten fish," Karkat says flatly. Even in the dimness Sollux can see the bags under his eyes, dark and pinched and heavy. "Can you just -- "

"Yeah, I get it."

It's been a sweep of this; of gestures that stir something hazy in his stomach, like he's swallowed tainted wine, but Sollux thinks he hasn't seen Karkat smile since the day he left for the seadwellers. Previously it was passionate rants and the occasional hard-earned smile, as precious as diamonds and jewels, but now it's just flat-lipped mouths and hard, tight expressions and it's bordering too much on crying, like he's about to crack if he sees Sollux one more time --

Under the hissing water, Sollux scrubs hard at his skin, watching soapy suds swirl down the drain. There was a time when he and Karkat had showered together, wiping each other down with a playful intimacy that never roiled up so much _emotion_ in his stomach, something intense and blazing like a bonfire, and he knows he wants to do more -- touch parts of Karkat where'd the other troll hasn't shown, bare his vulnerability, make his mind foggy with 

with

_with_

he doesn't know. 

Karkat is already waiting for him in the sitting room with a pail, slumped tiredly against the couch cushions. He barely looks up when Sollux sits down besides him. Once, they had sat on this very same couch and devoured romcoms and have Sollux beat the shit out of him in gamegrubs and fell asleep snuggled under a blanket, but now the pillows haven't been touched in a long time and the stash of movies is dusty. He tries not to flinch when Karkat purposely scoots to the far end, already removing his pants and underwear. Between his legs is just plain, unmarred and unaroused grey.

"KK?"

"Red or black?" The shorter troll nearly bites out the question, casually stroking himself to coax his bulge out.

"...black."

It's always been black with ED. The love he and Karkat makes together is red -- by all descriptions of the color -- but it's such a runny, weak hue, the flushed activity so dispassionate, and sometimes Sollux remembers their first bucket before he was ever hired away -- their first pail had been such a strong, blazing flush-red, the orange core burning like stars, when the possibility of being matesprits had been feasible -- and now the memory seems so laughable when Karkat frowns every time he sees him and the hive is quiet and they've long stopped sharing coons, barely able to stay in one room together.

"Sollux."

"...give me one second," the psion mumbles, struggling to unzip his pants. He's not sure how long he can continue doing this. So different from Eridan, so _different_ \-- and with the seadweller he can be assured that his passion is reciprocated, that their feelings -- whatever quadrant they are -- are mutual. Here, Karkat slides over and efficiently pulls down his pants for him, no affection or displeasure in the motion.

"Thanks, KK," he says quietly.

Karkat says nothing. And it hurts Sollux in the worst ways -- that Karkat Vantas, the troll to hold the title of never shutting the fuck up, now as aloof and silent as a glacier. Sollux strokes his own sheathe, feeling his nook flutter and pulse near his fingers, but his arousal is almost insignificant in his stomach.

"Just think of Eridan," Karkat snaps, harsher than he'd expect. "Just think of that fish-finned freak, okay? Let's hurry this fucking show up."

Sometimes he wishes he could be red with Eridan -- passionate, powerful red -- so he doesn't have to do this farce with Karkat. His best friend, once. His hivemate. Someone he'd lay his life down for easily as snapping fingers. But he knows he can't ever become pitch with the other troll -- how he won't _ever_ be able to handle Karkat's hatred, Karkat's vitriol, because all he wants with him is loving and tender and Karkat doesn't return an ounce of those feelings -- and if he ever did, it shriveled up and died the moment Sollux ever departed from the hive -- found consolation in another troll --

"Sollux? Stop spacing out."

"Yeah," Sollux says, kicking his pants off his ankles. "Yeah. Okay."

He can't think of Eridan though; guilt swarms in his stomach at the mere thought of it. Instead he wonders what it'd be like to be flushed with Karkat. He relives the memory of their first and last true pailing -- awkward fumbles, rushed confessions, the feeling of sickle-callused fingers dipping down to brush his sheathe, his nook, the taste of small blunt horns on his tongue as Karkat gasps above him and pleads for him to continue, to never stop, never stop holding him, and their release had been wonderful and exhilirating and they had fell into the same recuperacoon together, the taste of Karkat's fluid as strong as fresh berries.

His bulge has slipped out, smearing bits of yellow on his fingers. He strokes down on its length, feeling like an organism under a microscope. By all definitions of biology he's aroused. His mind, however, is tired and heartsick and sorrowful and he wishes he was anywhere else.

"Here," Karkat says, and then the smaller troll kneels between his legs and mouths at the underside of his bulge. A wave of heat surges through Sollux's gut. It's not the first time they've given each other head, since it's the quickest way to create enough genetic material for a pail (masturbation and hornjobs don't produce the required material in a quick-enough interval of time). He wonders if he'll ever tell Karkat how beautiful he looks with his mouth closed around his bulge, tongue slick with gold, lightly bobbing his head up and down. Flush hormones -- weak as they are -- dampen the air, making a dusky blush spread across Karkat's cheeks.

When Sollux comes, Karkat's already pulling away and thrusting the bucket below his hips -- yellow hits the sides and trickles to the bottom. The orgasm is small and bitter, and it makes him feel worse than he started.

"How do you want it?" Sollux asks as Karkat positions the half-filled pail beneath him.

"What?"

"I can use my psionics," Sollux says lifelessly, not looking at his hivemate. "I don't have to touch you. I'll stimulate your nook and there'll be enough material and then I'll leave soon and we repeat this again for the rest of our shitty lives until we find someone else better. Do you want that?"

If he had been looking at Karkat, he would've seen the raw, visceral pain that twists the troll's face -- like those words physically batter his intestines -- but he's too busy staring up at the ceiling instead, contemplating its arbitrary patterns. He wonders if he even cares if he hurts any of Karkat's feelings. 'Friend' is practically non-applicable between them nowadays, and on nights like these it's practically nonexistent.

So it comes as a freezing shock when Karkat lays a hand on his cheek, turning his face slowly -- and leans in. Their mouths brush almost chastely, barely a peck, but Sollux's face flares yellow as Karkat slowly, deliberately, leans back and parts his legs.

"No," he says, looking almost relaxed on the couch.

"KK -- "

"Eat me out." Karkat's voice is almost robotic. "Touch me however you like. I'll tell you if I want you to stop."

It's -- it's not quite the sessions they've shared previously, and something akin to relief warms Sollux's chest. He slides onto the floor and hooks Karkat's legs over his shoulders, his heart pounding erratically. Karkat glances down at him -- to any outsider he'd appear disinterested, but Sollux sees his eyes widening and realize how nervous he is.

"Don't worry, I've done this before -- " and then Karkat winces at that, and Sollux mentally berates himself for dragging Eridan back into the hive. "I didn't mean -- I'll make it good for you, okay? You won't regret it."

Karkat opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it. Sollux carefully presses kisses to Karkat's inner thigh, tasting the skin, until he reaches the juncture of thigh and hip. The warm, wet heat of the other troll's nook makes his own bulge stir, even minutes after an orgasm, and he plants a light kiss on the folds.

Karkat sucks in a sharp breath but doesn't resist, doesn't push him off.

_I've done this before_ \-- and how many times had he toyed with Eridan's genitals, reducing royalty into a mess of violet puddle? Same procedure -- lick slowly, savor the taste (less salty, but with the tinge of musk) carefully apply saliva over and over to a certain spot that makes Karkat's breath hitch, until Sollux's neck is cramping and heat pools in his stomach. He prays to Karkat's flavor, Karkat's contours, trying to plunge his split tongue into the moistening folds and smearing red over his lips -- 

"_Fuck --_ "

Sollux glances up at the word -- Karkat's head is tilted back, face relaxed in a shuddering moan, and the sight of it sends heat straight to his groin. He hasn't seen Karkat so responsive, so _bare,_ since -- 

Without a second thought he's slipping his hands under Karkat's shirt, kneading almost furiously at the grub scars -- at that, Karkat's eyes fly open and he begans keening, this high, almost wailing sound as he throws his head against the back of the couch, teeth digging in lower lip. Sollux returns to lavish attention on the nook, now raw and exposed, and when he _sucks_ a ragged sob tears from Karkat's throat, and his fingers continue to play at the grubscars, trailing over his stomach, tracing over his ass --

Psionics crackle to life -- and it's child's play to wrap tendrils around Karkat's horns, now pulsing almost red with arousal, squeezing them rhythmically until Karkat moans loudly again. He lets the electricity touch everywhere, stimulating nerves to the maximum -- they trace down his spine, brush across his sheathe, flit over the veins in his neck --

Karkat's bulge ripples out and smears across his jaw. Sollux wraps his fingers around it, twisting it in his palm, and presses his mouth to Karkat's nook again, molding the shape of tongue and lips to the mound of tenderized flesh. He's driven by the urge to make Karkat a mess, the same way he does it to Eridan; he wants to _melt_ him, and at the moment he pours his emotions into licking up slick stripes from his nook to his bulge, thumbing at the shame globes, until Karkat's heels dig into his shoulderblades.

"Sollux -- "

Sollux moans softly at his name and resists the urge to palm himself, but then Karkat's hands are wounding through his hair and touching his horns; chewed fingernails trace lightly at the larger ones' bases, pressing into a cluster of nerves that make him gasp right in Karkat's nook -- the other troll is close, so close, pale red tears leaking from his eyes even as his hips push into Sollux's face, practically humping him at this point -- 

And it only seems natural to Sollux to throw off Karkat's legs, drag him forward by the hips -- streaking red across the cushions -- kiss him hard on the mouth, tongue and teeth clashing into this awful, wonderful mess, and then Karkat's gone -- the crimson red spurts haphazardly, wildly, most dripping into the pail and some coating across Sollux's hands. He doesn't hesitate in licking them off, letting out a soft moan as he sucks on his fingertips. His tongue wraps around his digits with abnormal dexterity. A bit more and he'll come again -- he physically reels himself back in, listening to Karkat trying to regain his breath, long gasping stutters slowly petering into deep sighs.

"You okay?" he asks softly, suddenly afraid to look in the pail.

"Yeah. I'm -- " red still smears his thighs, his stomach, Karkat's breathing is uneven and his face blotched in flushes -- "holy, holy shit, I -- I don't. Holy crap."

"You...liked it?"

Wordlessly Karkat slumps off the couch; together they look into the bucket. Orange mixes muddily, but on the edges it's catalyzing into a --

not the ruby-red of their first time, but it's a clear and distinct shade, much more decisive than its previous counterparts. Even so, a cold dread creeps up Sollux's throat -- Karkat will know, Karkat will know how he truly feels and there's nothing, there's absolutely _nothing_ he can say to defend himself --

"I'm sorry," he babbles instead, trying to tear his gaze off the bucket. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I know you don't -- you don't feel that way -- I'm beyond sorry, I can't -- " Their friendship has been disintegrating for perigees, for sweeps, but he can't lose it, he's borderline-panicking as Karkat continues to quietly inspect the bucket's contents. "Please, don't -- don't shut me out, okay? I can't lose you. I can't _fucking_ lose you."

"Shut the hell up," Karkat snaps, his voice cracking on the last word. 

A horrible silence falls.

Karkat swipes the bucket off the floor and strides toward the doorway -- still pantless -- and glances outside the front window before opening the door. The pail is put in its receptacle on the porch to await drone collection. When he returns, door safely locked and secure, he finds Sollux still partially kneeling on the floor.

"KK -- "

"Get the fuck away," Karkat says quietly, but there's no more anger in his tone. "Just -- just stay out of my sight, okay? I need to go over to Terezi's tomorrow for a pitch pail."

"Karkat..."

But Karkat's already retreating into the ablutions chamber, presumably to wash his slurry off, and Sollux -- at this moment -- wishes more than anything to be back at court again, shielding and shielded by violet.

====

It's in the late hours of dawn that Sollux wakes to find someone slipping into the recuperacoon with him.

They're clad in only skin and boxers. Carefully Karkat slips into the sopor, seemingly unaware of Sollux staring sleepily at him, one blue eye hooded, horns glistering in daylight. When he's fully settled in, he drifts closer to Sollux, gently wrapping an arm around his waist.

Maybe they'll pretend this time didn't happen. Maybe Sollux is reading too much into Karkat's gesture. Nonetheless he's easing back into a drowse again, the weight of Karkat's arm warm and comforting across his skin, their breaths steady and slow as the sun rises.


End file.
